Caught
by Rinari7
Summary: A young female Charr born into the Flame Legion sneaks down to listen in on the males' magic lessons. One-shot. Warning: off-screen violence and abuse.


Cirellen crouched behind a rock by the entrance to what could be called a courtyard in the Citadel of the Flame, a large open area where the fahrars trained. The loud, sharp barks of the primuses reached her ears well enough, and every so often she peered out from the shadows behind the rock to watch the male cubs train, her blue eyes gleaming in her light-furred face as her left ears twitched slowly.

She didn't know why the Flame Legion didn't allow girls to fight or do magic, just _that_ they didn't. But she felt drawn to learn how to use this force that permeated the world around them and called to her to _do_ something with it.

The orange glow and fine curtain of soot in the air that pervaded the Citadel hung over the courtyard, which didn't exactly help Cirellen's vision too much. However, the pulses of energy the cubs were working on producing (in which only a few of them were currently succeeding) were clear enough. The cubs were lined up several rows deep in several groups in front of several primuses.

"Focus! Feel the magic around you and pull it into you!"

This was what she was here for. Cirellen closed here eyes and there it was: a faint, light ebb and flow, the pulse of the magic that saturated Tyria. She relaxed, letting it flow through her, down her arms and legs and through her entire body. Even the twitch in her left ear, a sign of nervousness knowing she was doing something forbidden, slowed.

"Feel it swirling into a ball in your paw! Focus it there!"

Cirellen curled her fingers slightly as she tried to trap the magic there, to focus it into a ball in her paw, but she frowned as it wasn't working. The magic would build up for a few moments, but then it would slip through her fingers again. After a few consecutive attempts, she got more and more frustrated, and it began slipping through her fingers even sooner. She almost hissed, but remembered where she was, and clapped a paw over her mouth, looking around anxiously. But there was no one close, and she let her breath out slowly in relief, risking another a peek around the rock.

The others didn't seem to be having much luck, either. Here and there a flash from a pulse of energy would illuminate a group of cubs in an almost blinding white light, after which usually one, if not two, cubs would grip their paw or shoulder (or whatever happened to have been hit by a stray pulse) with their faces contorted in pain.

"Don't let it get away from you! Focus it in your staff or focus or even pick up a rock if it helps!"

Cirellen looked around her and found a smooth, round stone, that fit easily in her paw and closed her fingers around it, closing her eyes. She let the magic flow through her again, now focusing it inside the stone. She imagined that the pebble was hollow and that the magic was able to flow in but not out through the hard rock walls, swirling and rippling inside the mostly spherical stone.

She felt it gathering, building up, and it cost her effort... but it stayed. Concentrating furiously, she opened her eyes slowly.

The stone in her paw was glowing slightly. Startled, she almost expected it to be hot, and came close to dropping it. Her fumbling released the pulse of magical energy, shooting it straight up in a streak of bright light, until it struck the rock of the cavern above her with a flash. Cirellen froze, tiny bits of rock and a fine stone dust falling around her, panic making her tremble.

She was an idiot. She would be discovered. She momentarily debated running, but if anyone was coming over to check here she would be spotted anyways. So she covered her head with her paws and crouched into a ball in the deepest shadow she could find.

But it was no use. Most of the cubs had gone momentarily quiet, their attention caught by the firework-like display, as had the primuses.

Pawsteps made her stiffen and curl up further. _Please go by, please go by..._ But they didn't. Of course they didn't. She peeked through a gap between her fingers. Several of the more adventurous cubs had run up and were staring at her.

"It's a girl." The speaker, a large, orange-furred cub, had a mixture of amazement and disgust in his voice. "Can girls even do magic?"

A primus towered over the cubs and over her even more, casting her in a deeper shadow. "Some can. But they shouldn't. She's been a very bad cub and she'll have to be punished. Boys, go back to the training yard and finish your drills." The other primuses had begun to shout out commands again. This primus took hold of Cirellen by one of her large ears and dragged her to her feet. She gave a yelp of pain and held her ear. Panic shot through her, warring with the throbbing of her ear, which felt as if the primus might tear it off. The clash of these sensations made it difficult to think.

He kept silent for about a minute or so as he set a fast pace through the halls of the Citadel, still keeping a firm grip on Cirellen's top left ear. She was forced to follow at a fast pace, often half-stumbling over her own footpaws due to the speed and her fright. "Wh-where are you taking me?" she managed to get out.

The primus didn't seem to have heard, and she was too frightened and preoccupied with trying to keep up with the much larger Charr's long strides to ask any more questions.

Before long, they arrived at a chamber Cirellen had never been inside before. But the primus took a set of keys out of a pouch on his belt and opened the door, ushering Cirellen through before closing and locking it behind them. Trembling, she held her sore ear and looked around.

The room didn't hold much, but what it did hold was intimidating. Knives were lined up on a table, and a brazier held live coals. Whips and ropes, handcuffs and chains of various sizes were hung up on the walls. A drain in the floor had a distinct reddish stain. Her shaking became more pronounced, and her left ears began to twitch furiously. _Oh, by the Claw of the Khan-Ur, what is going to happen to me?_

Finally releasing his hold on her ear, the primus turned to crouch down in front of her, his expression stormy. She instinctively knew that it boded nothing good for her, and she hunched her shoulders and drew away, clutching at her ear.

"Look at me. Females don't practice magic. The Imperator says so. They're supposed to serve us males, and nothing more. Now, you've disobeyed, and we can't have that."

She stared up at him with wide eyes. She didn't see what she had really done wrong, but she already knew that you didn't question the Imperator.

She'd seen a huge, horrific Charr that burned and roared and didn't burn up, and as she hid her face in her mother's skirts, her mama had stroked her head and told her that this was the Imperator, and that he would protect them as long as they were good and served him. She didn't want to know what happened when you were bad, but now apparently she would.

"What's your name?"

"Cirellen." It came out in a whisper hoarse with fright.

"Full name?" His tone was harsh.

"Cirellen Dreamspice."

"Take off your tunic."

She stared at him, perplexed, and gripped the bottom of her tunic, but hesitated. She couldn't fathom any pleasant reason why he'd want her to do that. _Couldn't he punish me with my clothes on?_

"Take it off!" he barked at her. "Or do you want me to do it for you?"

She lifted her tunic slowly over her head and let it drop to the floor. Her blue eyes were wide and her face perhaps a shade or two paler than usual as she hugged her arms over her flat chest, watching as the primus picked up a knife from the table.

About twenty minutes later she stumbled through the halls, quivering like a frightened mouse, vaguely intending to return the kitchen, where she had snuck away from chores, but not really mindful of her direction. Her mind was more numb than anything else from shock, her arms still crossed over her tunic-less chest. Blood still seeped out from the cuts on her right shoulder in the shape of an "M", matting her light yellow fur and staining it a dark reddish-brown. The stink of burnt fur hovered around her, and anyone walking behind the cub would see patches of burned, angry red skin on her back and shoulders. She eventually found her way back to the kitchen, however, where she received a beating for losing her tunic and leaving her chores undone.


End file.
